


These Scars of Mine

by writing4mylife13



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ex Sex, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Self Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-25 22:42:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/958448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing4mylife13/pseuds/writing4mylife13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Our relationship is a complicated one. Ex-lovers who come together more often then they probably should, to escape the harsh realities of life.' AU/OOC Everlark story. Smut. Angst. Currently on hiatus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Over The Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my loves! This is my newest story that kind of just wrote itself. It was actually an original story that I just made into an Everlark story. Please let me know if you think I should continue it as an Everlark story.
> 
> If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, please feel free to PM me or go ahead and find me at writing4mylife13 (DOT) tumblr (DOT) com.
> 
> NONE OF THE CHARACTERS I AM USING ARE MINE THEY ALL BELONG TO SUZANNE COLLINS
> 
> Enjoy <3

I groan as he pushes me up against the wall.

The pain of the bumpy brick wall attacking my back is delicious. Welcoming. The pain pushes me farther into him, and farther away from reality. He trails his fingers down the slope of my neck, and goosebumps litter my skin. He pulls away slightly and nips at my swollen lips, and I tangle my hands in his golden curls. His hand is still traveling down the length of my body until it finally finds its way under my shirt.

His fingers gently brush against my newly torn flesh, and he pulls back suddenly. His blue eyes narrow, and he lifts up my shirt to assess the damage my trusty safety-pin left behind. "Kat..." he whispers painfully.

"No. Don't even start. Not now. You can yell at me later, now you have something else to take care of," my voice is raspy. I don't even recognize it. I don't recognize myself, not since he and I have begun this sick and strange game of making one another feel pleasure so beautiful, we loathe returning to reality. He takes one more look at my ruined flesh, and then his lips and hands continue their slow, tortuous journey.

I moan when his lips reach my neck. He presses light kisses and bites against my skin, and I feel my knees begin to weaken. I think he can tell it's happening too, because he pushes me up against the wall harder, and my shoulder blades dig into the sharp bumps on the wall. The loud music that comes from the party inside make the walls vibrate, and it spurs him on. His hands pull off my shirt, and our lips break apart long enough for both of our shirts to come off.

I blush at the sight of his chiseled chest. This is not the first time I've seen him shirtless, and God willing, it's not the last time either. His hands lightly trail up my sides, avoiding the fresh wounds, but brushing over the scars. His calloused finger tips brush over my ribs and I shudder at the feeling of his feather like touch.

"I can count your ribs. When's the last time you ate?" I groan at the sound of his voice. I know that if he stops now, I will explode, and I also know if I do not answer him truthfully, he'll stop.

"Three days. I haven't been hungry. Like I said before, you can yell at me later -oh!- just please don't stop," I moan as his fingers massage me. His hands trail to my back and he unhooks my bra. His lips are still pressed against my neck, but they make a beeline back to my lips as soon as my bra hits the concrete.

His hardened hands are soft on my breasts. He knows how hard to press and how soft to squeeze, and it's not long until his blue eyes are looking into my grey orbs. They ask me for permission, and I grant it with a nod of my head. He presses his soft lips against my naked flesh. I close my eyes and enjoy the feeling.

Our relationship is a complicated one. Ex-lovers who come together more often than they probably should, to escape the harsh realities of life. For him, this is a quick release of pent-up frustration, but for me, it is everything. The feeling of his arms wrapped around me, his lips pressed to mine, is a heavenly gift I cherish. For this man is my everything, yet to him I am nothing, or so he says.

His body tells me differently.

"Katnisss," he hisses, and I grin at the sound. I feel pride in the fact that I can still do this to him, that I can still make him feel something for me. "Peeta," I moan in response.

He groans and presses his head into my shoulder. His labored breathing tickles my skin. "Are you trying to kill me?" He whispers, looking up in to my eyes. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and grin wickedly, "That's the point, didn't you know?" His icy blue orbs are lust-filled and dark, and the same delicious shiver runs up my spine. His lips are once again on mine, and his hands begin to make the slow, familiar trek down to my pants. I begin to fumble with his belt buckle and my hand lightly brushes the bulge in his jeans. I hear the loud party music, and it fills me with energy I didn't even know I needed.

His gasp is sharp when the backs of my knuckles brush against his knuckles again. It frightens me at first, but a glimpse at his face tells me he is enjoying it. Both of our pants hit the ground, and before we know it, our moment of passion is over. My naked legs wrapped around his torso, and our breathing is heavy and deep, but neither of us move, for fear of ending this moment. I feel the tears prickle behind my eyelids, and a sickening tightness invades my throat. I know once this moment is over we will once again become strangers, lovers destined not to stay together. He does not share the same feelings I have, and so the pain I create for myself is a welcomed distraction. I cannot stop the sob that breaks loose from my throat, and he looks up at me in fear, his blue eyes sad. I feel the hot tears slip out of my eyes as his attention drawn back to my newest injuries.

"Please don't hate me," I cry, tightening my hold on him, and burying my head into his neck.

"No baby, don't cry, you're okay, please don't cry. I don't hate you, no baby, shh," he croons softly. His sleepy voice is smooth like caramel, and sweet like sugar. He then does what he knows what will calm me down, he tells me a story. Our story. Of how he first laid eyes on me, on the feeling that he felt then, but no longer has for me. I can no longer hold in my words, and they come out quickly.

"I love you."

I whisper it into his neck. His body stiffens, and I know how this situation is going to end. Or not. He lifts my chin up with his finger, and he stares right into my soul. His finger softly trails against my cheek, and he cups my face in both of his hands, and gives me a slow and gentle kiss, probing my tongue with his own. He pulls away just as quickly as he began, and speaks.

"Let's go to bed."


	2. Howl

I wake up with a start. There is a pressure on my chest, and I look down to see Peeta's head in between my naked breasts. His chin propped up on the top of his hand, and his bright blue eyes are open as they stare sleepily into my own.

"You know, it's kinda creepy when you watch me sleep." The pressure on my chest increases when he chuckles. His chin digs into my chest and the pain spreads across the top of my chest, and it makes it hard to breathe.

"Good morning to you too. Do you want pancakes?"

His offer from last night to spend the night now makes sense. He wants to make sure I eat something, and the only way he'll know that I will, is if he watches me physically put the food in my mouth and swallow. I nod in response, and for a moment, he stays where he is. Peeta rolls around on his back, and pulls me with him. My tiny body curls up on his naked chest and I listen to the steady beating of his heart.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

He sighs softly, and he sits up, pulling me with him. He presses a soft kiss behind the shell of my ear, and I shudder at the familiar feeling.

"I'm gonna go make breakfast now, I'll see you downstairs in a few?"

I nod, and he gets up off his bed. He pulls on a pair of loose-fitting, grey sweatpants, and then leaves the room. I wait a few minutes, and then I get up. I grab one of his many light blue, long-sleeved shirts, and throw it over my head. The shirt hits about my mid-thigh, so I don't even bother putting on panties. I know after breakfast they'll be coming off anyway.

By the time I get downstairs, the familiar scent of apples and cinnamon assault my nose. His iPod plays softly in the background and he sings along. His voice is off-key, but comforting. I spot an off-white colored, ceramic coffee cup sitting on the counter, and I lunge for it. The heat of the liquid that's inside warms my fingers, and they begin to tingle from the heat. I take a tentative sip of the dark liquid and I moan in satisfaction. Apple tea.

As I sip the tea, I taste the sugar, milk, and honey that he added. Taking another sip, I begin to make a pot of coffee for Peeta. If he can remember how to make my favorite tea, I sure as hell can remember how to make his coffee the way he likes. I sit on the counter next to the coffee pot, and I watch him make my favorite food. When he's done he places about four or five pancakes on my plate, buttering all of them, and drenching them in syrup. He walks up to me, and stands in between my legs, offering me a large bite of syrupy pancake. I take another sip of my tea, and greedily accept the food. I know I will regret this later, but the reward will be worth it.

I shovel large bits of syrup covered pancakes into my mouth, savoring the sour taste of the apples mixed with the husky taste of cinnamon. Peeta watches me happily, his left arm wrapped around my waist, his large hand pressed hotly against my back. I wrap my legs around his waist, and hook my ankles together. I attempt to be seductive as I take another bite of pancake offered, but my efforts are useless, and I giggle at my stupidity. I stop when Peeta begins to lean in closer to me, and I can feel the definite arousal he has for me poking my inner thigh. Before anything can happen though, the coffee pot beeps, signaling that coffee is ready. I push Peeta away from me and I slide down the counter and I turn away from Peeta and face the coffee machine.

I'm not fast enough, and before I can do anything Peeta has me turned back around. His soft lips attached to my chapped ones in a second. Our lips dance, and our tongues fight for dominance. We keep going, our lips and tongues moving faster and faster. Peeta pulls away to nip at my lips and neck.

"I feel...dirty. Are you up for a shower?"

Oh hell yes! I want to scream, but I keep my mouth shut. He lifts me up, and I wrap my legs tighter around his waist. He climbs up the stairs two at a time, and before I know it, we're in his bathroom. He sets me down on the sink, and he pulls of my shirt. The cold air of the room assaults my nipples, and they harden slightly. Peeta attacks my right nipple, kissing, sucking, and biting hard. He pulls his mouth away with a loud pop, and moves on to my left nipple. His nimble fingers tickle the insides of my thighs, and I spread my legs, and he stands in between them.

Suddenly he sticks two fingers into my wet folds, and the noise that erupts from my mouth is a mixture of a moan and a whine. His mouth let's go of my nipple, and he pulls his fingers out of me.

"God you're so wet. Ready for that shower now?"

Oh, this'll be good.


	3. Howl Pt.2

Peeta hops into the shower, and I chase after him. The hot water hurts so good, and I can feel myself become wetter at the thought of what is to come. Peeta turns me around so that my back pressed tightly against his chest. His hands rest right at the bottom of my belly, and I can feel his arousal poke into my back.

The scalding water surrounds our bodies and it feels wonderful. I reach behind me and grasp his manhood tightly, pumping my hand up and down.

"Mmm Kat...please don't stop!" He moans, bucking his hips in time with the movement of my hand. His hand slips down in between my legs and his index finger plays with my clit. He moves his finger side to side, pressing and pinching the tiny nub.

"P-Peeta!" I moan thrusting my hips into his hands. He pulls his hand away, and I turn around and get down on my knees. I look up to watch his blue widen, and his jaw drop slightly. I love it when he looks like this. I grab his cock again and move my hand up and down, and he groans. Peeta runs his fingers through my hair and I take the hint. I wrap my mouth around the tip, and slowly move my head up and down him. I twirl my tongue around his length, and his husky whimper spurs me on, and his back hits the shower wall, hard.

His fingers tighten in my hair and I moan, my mouth still wrapped around him, and he shudders. He quickly pulls me up to him, and into a deep kiss. Our tongues dance around each other as my body slides up to meet his. "Sorry," he mumbles in between kisses, "just didn't want to finish yet."

He lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He flips us around, and I break out in goosebumps when my back touches the cold wall. Peeta plays with my clit for a few moments before plunging hilt deep inside of me. I let loose a loud, pleasure-filled scream as Peeta pumps roughly in and out of me. These bliss filled moments are the only reason I'm still breathing.

He continues to pump in and out of me, biting and licking the side of my neck, and pinching my nipples. I love the way he feels inside me. I love the way he wraps his arms around me. I love his lips, and his kisses. I love the dirty things he whispers into my ear when he's close to his climax.

I love him.

He pumps faster and faster, and I can feel myself begin to let go. He rubs my clit furiously, and I can barely feel my climax, but he keeps going, determined to make me come before he does. Once I am at my peak, I squirm and moan, and wrap myself around him, helping him finish. With one more pump and shout, he finished.

He squeezes my tiny body tightly, and we stay in the shower until the water turns cold.  
______________________  
"So...do you have class today?" Peeta asks me once we're out of the shower.

Back to reality I see.

I nod silently, and fold up the blue shirt I took from his closet.

"Do you want me to take you?" he asks. I can tell he's trying to start a conversation, but I know that if I speak I'll do something stupid like cry, so I just shrug. Peeta and I part of two different worlds. He's loved, he's important. I'm not.

"Katniss?"

I squeeze my eyes closed, and then open them and I look right into his bright blue eyes. He doesn't say anything though, he just gives me that look. The same look he gave me that day. It's the same look he gives me when he's found a new cut or scar. It's the same god damn look when he says "I'm sorry".

"Sure. Take me. Just let me get ready." I answer, ignoring that stupid look he's still giving me. I head over to the closet, but he grabs my hand and turns me back around to face him. He looks into my eyes momentarily, and then pulls my face to his. The kiss is sweet and slow, it's bittersweet and heart-wrenching. When he kisses me like this, I can almost convince myself he still loves me.

He pulls away slowly, but his hands still linger on my cheeks, his thumb tracing small circles on them.

"Peeta..."

He places his finger against my lips.

"I, we um, we should get going, we don't want you to be late." I nod mutely and turn back to the closet.

Back to reality.


End file.
